


Sanguine

by inkoustem



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Gen, Liverpool F.C.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 17:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5635714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkoustem/pseuds/inkoustem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liverpool in the night is—</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanguine

**Author's Note:**

> written after the lost against west ham, but the beauty of this is that it's set in unspecified period of time, so just pick whichever liverpool lost you fancy! hahaha! haha. ha.

 

> san·guine
> 
> /ˈsaNGɡwən/
> 
> _adjective  
>  _ optimistic or positive, especially in an apparently bad or difficult situation.
> 
> _noun_  
>  **a blood-red color.**

 

 

Liverpool in the night is cold, that much is a fact. Every night, various manifestation of Liverpool emerges in the night. One night it is rewarding, one night it is triumphant. The other night it is serene, the other night it is tranquilised.

That night, for Jordan, Liverpool in the night is hollow, that night, Liverpool in the night is remorseful. It doesn’t feel nice, but it takes more than acknowledgement to change the manifestation of Liverpool in the night. It makes him uneasy, it makes him restless, it makes him take a deep breath and get up to his feet.

It’s an impulse decision, and Jordan takes his keys and goes. It’s an impulse decision, and Jordan calls James as he reverses his car out. It’s an impulse decision, but Jordan doesn’t tell James exactly that when he asks why. It’s an impulse decision, his impulse decision, and Jordan tells James that he’s not calling to give order, he’s not calling to ask a favour, he’s calling simply to tell. It’s just that, where Jordan is captain, James is vice-captain, so Jordan thinks at least James should know, and Jordan is on his way. It’s an impulse decision, and Anfield is in his line of vision when he realises he is going out wearing only sweatpants and a thin t-shirt. Liverpool in the night is cold, that much is still a fact.

 

The gate is quiet when Jordan drives pass it. The lot is quiet when Jordan stops and parks his car. Jordan is quiet when he makes his way into the stadium. He’s not sure why he does it but he keeps his footsteps and breathing quiet as he navigates through the corridors, through a path so familiar he’s sure he can do it blindfolded. He keeps quiet and he enters the dressing room and he flicks the lights on.

The dressing room is empty except for the massage bed in the middle. The dressing room is empty except for a couple of footballs tucked in the corner. The dressing room is empty except for a couple of forgotten training jumpers lying on the bench. The dressing room is empty except for when Jordan walks to take a jumper and walks to take a ball. The dressing room is empty when Jordan walks out but the lights stay on.

The distance is short, between the dressing room and the pitch. The distance is short, and it goes down the tunnel, up the stairs, and out. The distance is short, and it is burnt to the back of Jordan’s mind. The distance is short, and there is a sign on the halfway point. There is a sign, it is hard to miss and it is framed. There is a sign, it hangs over the path going down the tunnel, and it hangs there surely, and it hangs there firmly. There is a sign on the halfway point and it proudly says This Is Anfield and the glass surface is spotless.

Jordan keeps his eyes fixed on the sign as he walks down the tunnel. He keeps his eyes fixed on the sign as he stops for a moment and unconsciously rubs his palm on his pants. He keeps his eyes fixed on the sign as he reaches up and touches the glass surface. It is cold, much like Liverpool in the night. Jordan lowers his arm and looks straight ahead, and then he walks up the stairs, and then he walks out onto the ground.

 

The moon is out and bright as Jordan steps out to the sideline. The moon is out and bright as Jordan drops the ball to his feet. The moon is out and bright as Jordan slowly dribbles the ball to the halfway line. The moon is out and bright as Jordan looks straight to the Kop Stand, to the empty seats in the Kop Stand, and he marvels at how Anfield in silence is still deafeningly loud. But it is not the kind of deafeningly loud that Jordan wants to hear. It is not the kind of deafeningly loud that should be manifested by Liverpool in the night. It is not the kind of deafeningly loud that is fitting for Liverpool, in the day and in the night.

 

Anfield stands still when Jordan sees Adam emerging from the tunnel, one hand in pocket and the other balled into a fist by his side. Anfield stands still when Jordan makes his way back to the sideline and Jordan passes the ball to Adam and Adam passes it back to Jordan and it goes back and forth, back and forth, until they meet by the sideline and the ball is under Adam’s foot. Anfield stands still, and so do the two of them.

Before Jordan says a word, Adam gives him a soft smile. Before he says a word, Adam kicks the ball lightly towards the direction of the Kop Stand. Before he says a word, they both begin walking, side by side, and Jordan breathes in the cold air of Liverpool in the night.

One step, two steps, Jordan asks Adam if James told him, and Adam nods. One step, two steps, Jordan asks Adam if James told anyone else, and Adam shrugs. One step, two steps, Jordan looks back at the same time James exits the tunnel and jogs lightly to catch up to them. One step, two steps, shoulders down, backs straight, heads up, and they walk, side by side.

 

They walk along the Main Stand, Jordan doesn’t look back but he hears more voices behind them, he hears more footsteps following his one step, two steps, and they keep walking.

Turn the corner, they walk along the Kop Stand, Jordan doesn’t look back but he feels the presence behind them getting bigger, he feels the presence behind them getting livelier. They walk along the Kop Stand, and the bigger the presence behind them gets the lighter Jordan feels with every one step, two steps, and they keep walking.

Turn the corner, they walk along the Centenary Stand, Jordan doesn’t look back, he looks at the empty seats and he contemplates. They walk along the Centenary Stand, Jordan’s feet don’t lose their rhythm of one step, two steps, and they keep walking.

Turn the corner, they walk along the Anfield Road Stand, Jordan doesn’t look back, he keeps looking at the empty seats and still he contemplates. They walk along the Anfield Road Stand, and Jordan hears someone behind him humming a tune, a slow and drawn out tune, an uncharacteristically sad tune, accompanying the one step, two steps, and they keep walking.

Turn the corner, they are back to walk along the Main Stand, and Jordan recognises the tune, it’s of the dreams and songs to sing, it’s of the glory around the fields of Anfield road.

One step, two steps, that night, Jordan’s manifestation of Liverpool in the night is retrospective, that night, Liverpool in the night is wakening. One step, two steps, through a borrowed jumper and a lap around Anfield, Liverpool in the night is cold, that much still remains a fact.

 

They gather on the pitch in front of the Kop Stand, Jordan and his band of Red men. Some like Dejan and Mamadou are standing, some like Lucas and Christian are sitting down. Some hands like Emre’s and Martin’s are curled around a cup of cooling hot beverage, some expressions like Philippe’s and Alberto’s are hidden behind the scarf around their neck, some feet like Daniel’s and Jordon’s and Simon’s are busy passing the ball from one to the other and to the other. They make small talk and laugh in a voice that is loud enough to be shared between them, Jordan and his band of Red men, but Anfield in silence is still deafeningly louder.

So Jordan speaks up, he tries to beat the loudness of Anfield in silence. He says, we will be alright, but we can be better. He says, we will be alright, but we have to be better. Some pairs of eyes are fixed on him, some pairs of eyes are fixed on empty seats surrounding them. He says, we mustn’t forget who we play for, we mustn’t forget why we play for. He says, make a promise to them, make a promise to yourself, whatever your reason, and believe. We can change the manifestation of Liverpool in the night. For the dreams and the songs to sing. For the glory around the fields of Anfield road. We are the men of Liverpool. We walk on. We hold our head high and we walk on.

They gather on the pitch in front of the Kop Stand, Jordan and his band of Red men. A familiar face next to another one next to another one next to another one. They breathe the cold air of Liverpool in the night, the atmosphere dictates they breathe it with a purpose, Jordan and his band of Red men. That moment, for Jordan, the loudness of his heartbeat in his ears beats the loudness of Anfield in silence.

 

It’s time for them to go back to their homes, yet Jordan watches Philippe steals the ball from Simon and dribbles it to the edge of the box. Jordan watches Philippe takes a few steps back, on his face written a promise, on his face written a determination. Jordan watches Philippe strikes the ball into the net, in front of the Kop Stand. A grin breaks out, and Philippe says, see you in training.

It’s time for them to go back to their homes, and they do, one by one. Jordan watches as Dejan retrieves the ball and puts it back to the same spot at the edge of the box. Dejan takes a few steps back, with similar air of promise, with similar air of determination. Dejan strikes the ball into the net, in front of the Kop Stand. A smile, and Dejan says, see you tomorrow. And Daniel repeats it, and Alberto repeats it, and Christian repeats it. The same spot at the edge of the box. The similar air of promise, the similar air of determination. And Lucas repeats it, and Mamadou repeats it, and James repeats it. Take a few steps back. Strike the ball into the net, in front of the Kop Stand. And Adam repeats it, and Martin repeats it, and Simon repeats it. A grin, a smile. See you in training tomorrow.

It’s time for them to go back to their homes, and they do, one by one, until Jordan is the last to stand on the pitch. He retrieves the ball. He puts in on the same spot at the edge of the box. The similar air of promise. Liverpool in the night should be illustrious. He takes a few steps back. The similar air of determination. Liverpool in the night will be sublime. He strikes the ball into the net. He strikes it in front of the Kop Stand. And Jordan breathes in, and Jordan breathes out.

 

Jordan returns the ball back to the corner of the empty dressing room. He doesn’t return the forgotten, borrowed jumper back to lie on the bench. He exits the empty dressing room and he flicks the lights off.

The sign is still on the halfway point between the dressing room and the pitch, and it still hangs there surely, and it still hangs there firmly. The sign, it is still hard to miss, it is still framed, and Jordan fixes his eyes on it for one last time that night. The sign, it still proudly says This Is Anfield, but the glass surface is no longer spotless. The sign, and there are smudges on its glass surface, the heights vary, the shapes the same, the shape of fingertips, and Jordan feels himself smiling.

He navigates through the corridors, through the familiar path again. He goes into his car again. And he drives back home. Liverpool in the night is cold, that much is a given, that much is a fact.

Though, in that moment, that night, for Jordan, Liverpool in the night is rising, that night, Liverpool in the night is sanguine.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. right. so.  
> 2\. let's not ruin the romance and think about how the players probably don't have _that much_ complete access to anfield after hour.  
>  3\. in case it's not obvious, this is ~~blatantly copying~~ heavily influenced by **Red or Dead** by David Peace, and if you're a liverpool fan and haven't read it i really recommend you to read it, even if you're not just read it because it's just so _magnificent_ it's good it's really good.  
>  4\. please do leave any comment or criticism or if you spot any mistakes all of them are love in my book!  
> 5\. thank you so much thank you for clicking and for reading and i hope it wasn't a waste of your time!!


End file.
